


knife emoji

by bigknife



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, F/M, Knifeplay, Voyeurism, waiting for michael to come home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 03:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigknife/pseuds/bigknife
Summary: just having a little good wholesome bloody fun





	knife emoji

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was for nsfw knifeplay w/ michael with pred/prey elements.  
> slasher writing blog is @ hugeknives.tumblr.com

Michael can only hear two things: his own breathing inside of his mask and the muffled rock music coming from the house he’s watching.

He watches you with his one good eye, ever silent and ever still, through the side window.

You’re in your room and starting to get undressed, mouthing along to the music playing and every so often bouncing along to the bass. It’s evening now, the only light in the house emanating from this window.

Michael, from the shadows, watches you lift up the hem of your shirt, finally exposing your skin as you slowly raise it up. Inch by inch your skin graces his eyes until the shirt is over your breasts and then over your head.

Michael feels something inside of him stirring, a heat. He can hear his own breathing again as he takes in the sight of your fragile skin, your soft hair.

Inside, you turn away from the window, leaving him the view of your back. He can see the delicate fabric of your bra hooked together, leading down the gentle slope to the small of your back where your pants begin to hide you from his gaze. Not for long, Michael notices, as he sees the movement of your arms that he recognizes as you unbuttoning your jeans.

You push them down your hips so slowly that he can take in the sight. Your ass, your thighs, eyes roving down your legs to quickly return to your ass. That heat boils inside him now. To his frustration, you turn once you have your pants off. His gaze goes to your face to find you still singing along to the song. He lingers on your face, watching your lips and your eyes, the softness in your jaw. Quickly his eyes drop again though as you unhook your bra.

He shifts and a twig snaps under his boot. His breath stops short as he steps out of view.

~

You catch only the sudden movement out of the corner of your eye, window closed and music too loud. Holding your breath, your arms covering your chest with your half removed bra, you step closer to the window. You look out, eyes scanning the patch of grass below and to the sides of your window that’s only illuminated by the moonlight. Nothing.

You feel your heart speed up, shrugging your bra off the rest of the way and quickly putting on a large night shirt that falls to mid thigh. You walk to your stereo and stop the music. Your ears ring with the sudden silence, but you try to listen. After a few moments standing stock still, you open the bedroom door to the dark and quiet portion of the house and wait. Nothing.

You step out of your room, barefoot on the hardwood floor as you pad to the kitchen down the hall. The moonlight pours in through the windows, catching on the clean silverware in the dish strainer and the kitchen counters. What your eyes find next is the open back door. Your breath catches in your throat as a cool breeze pushes the door towards you further with a creak.

Your heart is beating out of your chest, reaching over and grabbing the largest kitchen knife out of the strainer. When you turn back around, you see the impossibly tall and looming figure in the adjacent hall that leads to the front door. You yelp in surprise, turning and making the run for your bedroom.

With one long stride, he reaches out and grabs your wrist painfully tight. You scream before wrenching free from his grasp and making it to your room. He’s so close behind you that when you whip around and attempt to close the door, it shuts on his large boot. As the door bounces off of him, he steps into your room. He’s toweringly tall, head only a couple of inches from the top of the doorway. Seeing that dirty white latex max sends a certain fear shivering through your body. And.. something else.

And then, he’s on you. You raise the hand holding the knife only to have him wrap strong fingers around your wrist, squeezing and twisting while he pushes you backwards. The backs of your knees meet your bed and you fall, with him following. He finally twists the knife out of your hand and it falls onto the sheets beside you. Still holding your wrist, he pushes that hand above your head to meet the one he already held there as he grasps both of your wrists in one rough and strong left hand.

You’re panting heavily under him. His knees are on the bed now on either sides of your comparatively tiny body. You struggle and his grip on your wrists tightens to a crushing hold. You can hear his heavy breathing echo inside of his mask, watching his large chest rise and fall.

“Were you watching me?” you ask, out of breath. No reply comes, he just stares down at you, the angle not letting you see any amount of his face through the eye holes of his mask.

His free hand goes to your throat, not squeezing but seeming to feel your skin there. You gulp reflexively, and his hand slides up to your jaw. There he grabs you roughly and you whine.

“I thought you’d never come home, Michael,” you say through his grip on your jaw. Michael responds by slipping two large fingers into your mouth. He presses them down against your tongue where you can taste the dirt and iron left on his hands. Then you feel them press against your teeth, running along them and feeling those edges. You close your mouth around his fingers and move your tongue against them. Your eyes bore into the holes of his mask as you listen to his steady breathing. You feel the building wetness between your thighs. He removes his fingers and runs them down your neck, leaving your own saliva to trail down and cool on your skin.

Michael’s hand goes lower, and you feel the sudden lax in the other hand holding your’s above you. You squirm and he immediately takes a fist full of your shirt with his right hand, nearly lifting you off the bed by fabric alone. You gasp, motionless as he releases your shirt slowly. Your whole body tingles with excitement as you sink back down into your bed.

His free hand then retrieves the knife from beside you and you can barely contain yourself. You had hoped he’d take the hint. He holds the knife as easily as if he was born holding one and that thrills you. He points it towards you now, bringing it down slowly so the tip touches the clothed skin over your clavicle. With light pressure he drags the tip of that knife down, flat side up so he can watch the little triangle press against you as it travels over the pliant skin of your breast, across the expanse of your abdomen and over the mound between your legs. He does this agonizingly slowly and you shudder, sucking in a shaky breath.

Michael then slips the edge under the hem of your shirt, using the knife to pull it upward, breathing out slowly. He shifts the knife one handed to hold it back against his forearm and use his now free fingers to yank your shirt the rest of the way up so it gathers above your breasts. You find yourself fighting a smile thinking on how considerate it is of him to not cut your shirt.

Holding the knife handle in his palm again, he presses the tip against the soft skin of your breast, applying gentle pressure until blood begins to well and pool in the indent against your skin left by the blade. You hiss through your teeth at the sting, feeling it travel through your body and taking on a sick transformation before it arrives between your legs as pleasure.

Michael looks at your face now, watching you as he digs the knife in a few millimeters deeper. You gasp, eyes widening as you rush to meet his gaze, or you hope you meet his gaze as your eyes search those black holes to find no purchase. Blood spills over now, slowly rolling over your skin to follow gravity down over your side and onto the bed. Through the pain, it tickles as it travels down your skin.

He removes the knife and brings it to your mouth, pressing the bloodied tip to your bottom lip. Your lips part and you let your tongue meet the tip of the blade, tasting the strong iron of your own blood. Michael’s breath is quickening. You can’t see very well with him on top of you, but you think you might be able to see the weight of his cock against his jumpsuit. You can feel the wetness between your thighs dampening your underwear now.

He wipes the rest of your blood off of the knife with your lips and sides of your mouth, smearing it there. The knife lowers again and he presses it to your stomach. He watches as this time he drags the sharp edge of the blade along your skin to leave a long but shallow cut a few inches below your breast. Blood slowly beads up from this cut as he leaves a few more, gradually pressing the blade more firmly to your skin to cut deeper, leaving a bloody trail leading lower and lower on your body. With each new cut you find you’re holding your breath, only to release it after the stings give way to the following aches.

The knife reaches the hem of your underwear and Michael stops for a moment to, as far as you can tell, consider his next move. He lifts his head to look at you and your eyes meet those black holes. Then you feel the coldness of the flat side of the steel blade press against the hot, wet portion of your underwear and you gasp as your hips jump at the feeling. Michael doesn’t move the knife, just watches you for a moment.

You hear his loud, now on the verge of erratic breathing as he slowly pulls the knife upward. Meanwhile, you’re holding your breath as you feel the sharp edge of the blade drag against the fabric protecting you, paired with the cold sensation passing over the portion covering your clit. You exhale quietly with a small moan and Michael, still watching you, slowly tilts his head. He turns the blade now, blunt edge against you, and pushes it back down. Then he moves his wrist, the blade moving from left to right and you arch your back as it catches your clit.

He does it again, and again, and your legs are parting under him, pressing against his that are straddling you. You whimper under him and hear his now uneven and quick breath.

He pulls the blade away from your body, adjusts his grip and then slips the tip of the blade under the fabric over your thigh. With a yank he pulls the knife through easily to free one leg. He cuts the other side to match and when he grabs them to pull the shredded fabric off of you, he can feel the dampness you left on them.

You hear the quietest grunt, so quiet you aren’t sure you really hear it, come from him. His movements become quicker, harsher. He shifts his body now and you can see his obvious erection through his suit and it brings a flush to your cheeks. He uses each knee in turn to push your legs apart and rests each of your thighs above them. He presses the tip of the knife to the fat of your easily accessible and inviting mid-thigh, pressing in until blood comes and runs down your leg to the bed. You hiss again, sucking air through your teeth and then shuddering as you feel the bloodied blade tip ghost down your thigh, closer, closer.

Your eyes were closed when the knife cut your thigh but you open them now to find Michael looking at your face again. Gently the blunt edge of the knife is pressed against your cunt with no fabric to protect you, the sudden coldness making your body jolt. He waits only a few moments before turning the knife and moving his wrist again, dragging cold steel across your clit. And he watches as your mouth opens and closes silently before you let out another moan, back arching and arms tugging against his grip still on them. He continues, back and forth and picking up speed. You can feel that the sheets under you are wet now and your moans are coming in huffs and whimpers that sometimes turn into his name and variations of begs.

He stops abruptly to move the blade to your other as yet untouched thigh, leaving a few quick cuts there. You cry out, this skin much more sensitive and his excitement leading to haphazard cuts. The blood trickles down in rivulets to mix with the fluids between your thighs and on your bed.

Michael abandons the blade then and opts to run his calloused fingers over the clotted cuts on your stomach, making them bleed once more. You’re wincing at that sting when his hand then grips your cut breast where the still gummy blood sticks to him and smears as he feels down over the now newly bleeding marks on your torso and fresh cuts on your thighs. Then his fingers meet your cunt, rough and bloody skin meeting the soaked and smooth folds there. His fingers circle your clit thrice before two slip inside you. Thick fingers stretch you as he pulls them out and pushes back in and the blood mixes with your fluid to make a pink, sticky mess.

He continues to finger fuck you and you try to push yourself further onto his hand. Then he removes the other hand holding your wrists and your arms ache with their new-found freedom. Your freedom is short lived though, as his now free hand then finds your throat. Your hands clasp to that arm as his right hand is still pumping into you, thumb pressing against your clit to move in fast circles. You feel his left’s grip tighten against the sides of your throat. Your breath is shaking as you moan louder, feeling his relentless pace quickly bringing you close to your climax with every deep thrust of his fingers. Your head starts to feel light and your vision tunnels and goes fuzzy. As you near the top of the peak his hand on your throat eases and you gasp, hitting your orgasm with a rush of oxygen, body tightening around his fingers, nails digging into the skin of his arm and back arched as you cry out his name.

Michael’s fingers remain inside of you, unmoving as he watches you slowly come down, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths. You blink back the stars in your vision and your muscles slowly relax, only then does he pull his fingers from you.

Your cuts give your skin a tender ache. You hear the sound of a zipper and your eyes focus to watch Michael unzip his jumpsuit, shrugging off the arms to let them fall forgotten from his torso. You almost bask in the sight of him in his black t-shirt, arms tense as his hands roam your body for a short while, moving across your skin almost gently. Everything is quiet except for the almost ominous sound of his breathing. Then his hands both meet around your throat and you delight in the fact that now, it’s his turn.


End file.
